


Inheritance

by nerdiekatie



Series: Voltron Ficlets [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdiekatie/pseuds/nerdiekatie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of my Voltron Drabbles series, which you can also find on my tumblr.</p>
<p>" 'The King,' he says heavily, 'is dead. You are the Queen. Why,' he swallows, her normally cheerful, wordy advisor gone as he stumbles and struggles for words, 'haven’t you taken up the mantle?' "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

Coran knocks quietly at her door. “Princess Allura?”

“Coran, come in,” she calls through the door. She looks up from the computer console as he enters. He looks unusually somber. This will require her full attention.

“Please sit,” she says, gesturing at a nearby chair. As befits royalty, her quarters are a little more richly furnished than the otherwise sparse castle. What few pieces she has are wonderful works of art that do the priceless service of reminding Allura of home, but in the end, they are the paltry leavings of a rich Altean tradition of craftsmanship. The cynical part of Allura wonders how much they would fetch in an underground market. Coran fiddles with his mustache as he settles into a chair that could fund the entire war against Zarkon.

His thoughts gathered, Coran speaks at last.

“The King,” he says heavily, “is dead. You are the Queen. Why,” he swallows, her normally cheerful, wordy advisor gone as he stumbles and struggles for words, “haven’t you taken up the mantle?”

Allura’s eyes open wide, before they dart to her lap. She simply cannot look at his face.

“Oh, Coran,” she sighs. “Pidge is right. All our people are dead. I’m not the princess of anyone. How could I call myself Queen?”

“I’m still here,” Coran says with a ferocity that surprises Allura. She looks up, startled. “You will always be my Queen.” He moves off his chair, to kneel, Allura knows, but she stops him, reaching out to grab hold of his upper arms.

“You have always been as much a father to me as my father was,” Allura says, looking into his eyes to convey the sincerity of her words. She wonders if he can hear her struggle against her breaking voice. “I would much rather stay your princess.” She sees Coran’s face flicker in an expression she doesn’t have time to decipher before he leans forward and wraps her in his arms.

Allura has many memories of being held like this by Coran as a child, after skinned knees and court visits gone wrong and her mother’s death. Like this, with Coran’s arm around her back, she is allowed to be less than a consummate leader. She buries her face in his shoulder and lets herself cry for everything- her people, her planet, their future- but mostly for her father, whose absence is the freshest wound.

“We were supposed to have so many more years! I was never-“ she sobs into Coran’s embrace harder. “Not this young!”

“I know, princess,” says Coran soothingly, but with a hint of steel. “Zarkon betrayed us, but we’re going to create an alliance and save the universe. And one day, when you’re ready,” he brushes her hair back, “you will be the most brilliant, radiant Queen in the history of Altea.” Allura smiles through her tears. “Your father would already be so, so proud. I know I am.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find this and the rest of the series on my tumblr at http://nerdiekatie.tumblr.com/search/kay+writes  
> or, you know, you can just keep reading it here


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